Ben woke with a start. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and blinked, remembering the events of last night. Sometime in the middle of the night his blankets had found the rough timber floor. He slipped on a pair of shoes and picked his bedding up, plucking splinters out of the wool fabric.
He heard movement in the kitchen. He pressed an ear to Kevin’s door as he passed but heard nothing. The kitchen door creaked open to reveal a dressed Albert dipping a homemade tea bag into a cup of hot water. Waverley’s residents used to get their food from replicators, before the Kings had claimed them all. Now they relied on rations the Agostini faction doled out to the neighbourhoods. Everything else they either made or stole. Like the hessian fabric bags Albert made that held a sprinkling of tea leaves.
Albert turned when Ben slipped inside the room and closed the door. ‘Hungry? We don’t have much, but I could put something together for you?’
Ben shook his head, shuffling forward in his shoes.
His stomach clenched as he sat down; Sal’s news occupied his thoughts. ‘Albert, I have to talk to you about something.’
‘Don’t worry, I checked on Kevin this morning. He’s fast asleep.’ Albert dunked the bag of leaves into the water again. ‘At least he’s in his bed, so that’s a start.’
‘No, it’s not about Kevin. Sal told me to tell you something.’
Albert narrowed his eyes at Ben and sat down at the table with his mug. ‘What is it? You have me worried now.’
‘Sal says the books don’t balance. She thinks someone has been stealing money from her safe.’
Albert closed his eyes and massaged his temple. He opened them. ‘Did you make it back on time? I didn’t hear you come in.’
Ben nodded. ‘The patrol was already out. It was scanning the tavern. Infrared. Did you hear what I said about the money?’
‘Did the car see you on the streets?’
‘No, I was inside before they got here.’
‘Then why? I don’t understand.’
Ben ruffled his hair; he badly needed a haircut. ‘What if Marcus is keeping tabs on Isobel?’
Albert leaned back and sighed. ‘I was afraid of this. I knew that bringing Isobel here would make us the talk of the town. But there’s nothing we can do about it, except be careful about not missing curfew. She is working here, and that’s final. I made a promise to that girl, and to you, and I always keep my word. We’ll deal with whatever happens together.’ He stood up and Ben mirrored his actions. ‘Don’t worry about the missing money. It’s probably nothing. I’ll talk to Sal. Leave it to us to sort out.’
Albert exited the room; he moved fast for a man of his age. But he seemed agitated as he descended the stairs. A concerned Ben followed him. Should he have told him about the patrol car? The missing money and the possibility that someone was risking Waverley’s credit line was enough bad news for one morning.
‘Would you open up for me this morning?’ said Albert. ‘I need a couple of hours to run a few errands.’
‘Sure.’
He stopped on the bottom step and gave Ben’s shoulder a quick squeeze. ‘You’re a good boy, Ben. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
He walked over to the bar, picked up his coat and left the tavern.
☼
Isobel arrived at the tavern shortly after Albert left. She wore the same grey World Government uniform that she had on upon arrival at Waverley docking station.
Ben glanced past her as he let her in. ‘Sal not with you?’
‘She and Albert had some business to discuss.’
He studied her clothes. ‘You know, Sal probably has something else that you could wear.’
Isobel glanced down at her outfit. ‘Yes, I’ve been wearing this since the passenger ship. I would prefer something else. I don’t care for the uniform.’
Ben understood her reluctance to wear it. The World Government had changed her.
‘The clothes I brought with me are too thin for this weather.’
‘I thought you preferred it cold.’
‘As a full Indigene, maybe, but I’m no longer that. I feel more like my human self. And that means I feel the cold too easily.’
Isobel took the chairs down from the tables while Ben slipped behind the bar and set the glasses out on the counter. He checked the stock, then opened a new bottle of spirits delivered by one of Marcus’ men two days ago. He poured two-thirds of the bottle into a plastic jug and filled the bottle to the top with water to sell to customers who could barely tell the difference anymore. He covered the remaining undiluted alcohol, stored the jug in a cupboard and locked it.
Ben glanced at the stairs, wondering where the hell Kevin was.
The tavern door opened, and Old Pete made his presence known with a sharp rap on the door frame. He eyed Isobel as he took his usual seat at the bar.
‘Gimme a beer, squirt. On my tab.’
Ben poured amber liquid into a clean mug, which he then slammed down on the bar.
‘I’m sick of you sponging off my grandfather.’
Pete’s eyes hardened into two lumps of coal. ‘He’s not even your real fucking grandpa, little boy. Remember your crazy mamma who left you to that orphanage because you’re such a little shit?’ He reached for the mug but Ben kept it from him.
‘Give me my fucking beer. I’m thirsty.’
Ben felt new anger stir; anger he’d kept locked away for so long. With the mug in his hand he pulled his arm back. He’d picked out the perfect spot to hit: on the side of Pete’s head. He sucked in a breath, drew his arm back further, and swung.
But to his surprise, only his knuckle grazed the side of Pete’s head.
‘Keep your hands to yourself, you little runt.’ Pete swiped at Ben.
Ben twisted around to find Isobel beside him, holding the mug he’d just tried to swing at Pete. She gave him an admonishing look and handed the beer to Pete.
‘At least one of you is doing your fucking job,’ said Pete.
Ben stalked over to the stairs and motioned her over. She followed him, a confused look on her face.
‘What did you do that for?’ he said, out of Pete’s earshot.
‘He has ties to Marcus. And he seems like the type to spread the wrong rumours about this place.’
‘I don’t give a shit what they say. They’re all bigoted morons.’
Isobel glared at him. ‘This isn’t about you, Ben. What about Albert? Don’t you think he has enough to contend with? I heard him and Sal talking before I left.’
Ben dropped his gaze, but his anger remained coiled like a snake inside him. ‘I need to cool down.’
‘That’s probably a good idea. I’ll watch the bar.’
Ben stomped upstairs and threw himself on his bed. He buried his face in his pillow and screamed as loudly as he could. He hated this neighbourhood. He hated how Albert and Sal and others like them were treated. He hated that the best Earth could offer Indigenes like Isobel was a lifetime of slavery and hatred. This new world sucked and he wanted to do something to change it. He refused to be passive like his mother. For the briefest of moments he wondered she was still alive.
Then that moment passed when he thought about how, on Exilon 5, his childhood avatar, Thomas, had been more of a parent to him than she had.
He kicked, screamed and punched his way to peace. His mood felt lighter as he returned to the bar, but he tensed up again when he saw Kevin arguing with Isobel, coat and mask in his hand.
‘I don’t care what Albert said to you. I want you gone by the time I’m back. You hearing me?’
‘It’s really not your call, Kevin,’ said Isobel.
Kevin’s face reddened. ‘Don’t use my first name, bottom-feeder. Call me “master” if you insist on addressing me.’
Old Pete was grinning. He was turned towards the fight, his yellow teeth flashing and his hard eyes dancing with mischief. Judging by the quantity of beer in his mug, he’d moved on to his second drink.
Ben moved closer. ‘Kevin, don’t talk to her like that.’
‘Shut up, Indigene-lover. It’s your fault she’s here, you know that? Albert wouldn’t have agreed to this if you hadn’t interfered.’
‘You tell ’im,’ said a pointing Pete.
‘You’re supposed to be working today. Where are you going?’
Kevin swung his coat around and dropped his arms into the sleeves. ‘I’ve got some business to do.’
‘What do I tell Albert?’
Kevin sneered. ‘Whatever the hell you want. I don’t care. As long as she’s working here, I’m not.’
He slapped his well-worn gel mask on his face and connected the oxygen supply, flicking his nail against the bottle in frustration. ‘Stupid thing.’ He flicked it again and the oxygen finally hissed. Before Ben could talk him out of going, he’d opened front door and slammed it behind him.
Ben checked his watch and looked at Isobel. ‘When’s Albert supposed to be back?’
‘He said later. That was all.’
☼
The morning turned into afternoon and still there was no sign of Albert. Old Pete had left at 1pm, saying he had things to do. Ben didn’t want to know what jobs Marcus had him doing when he wasn’t at the tavern.
Five customers remained in the bar: men ranging in age from late sixties to early eighties. All from East Compound.
At 3pm, Albert finally showed. Ben dropped the cloth on the bar and strode over to him.
‘Where were you? I was worried.’
Albert patted his shoulder. ‘Nothing to worry about. Sal and I had some extra business to discuss, that’s all. Then I accompanied her to the black market. She needed some parts for the generator.’ He removed his coat and looked around. ‘Where’s Kevin?’
‘He went out earlier. He was livid about Isobel working here. I tried to stop him.’
Albert failed in his attempts to look relaxed. The space between his eyebrows creased way too much.
‘Where did he go?’
‘He didn’t say.’
Albert sat at one of the round tables and nodded to the five men sitting together, playing cards.
‘We have room at the table, Albert, if you fancy wagering a little bet?’ said one man.
Albert smiled. ‘Maybe later, Glen. I’ve already had the shirt taken off my back today.’
Glen shrugged and dealt the cards. The pile in the middle of the table contained old photos, cheap strap-watches, plastic lighters and a scattering of matchsticks.
Ben sat opposite Albert. ‘Have you had lunch yet?’
‘I just need a minute. Let me catch my breath and I’ll make us something.’
Ben touched his shoulder. ‘No. You stay here. I’ll make it.’
Albert looked up with a weary smile. ‘What happened to you? You seem grown up suddenly.’
‘Yeah, I guess I am. This shitty world will do that to you.’
Ben prepared some food and set it down on the table in front of Albert. Glen and the other four men had gone, their card game over. Others came in to look at Isobel and left without buying anything. The number of paying customers in the tavern remained lower than normal.
Isobel refused Ben’s offer of food, choosing to stay behind the bar and serve customers. Albert disappeared upstairs to rest, leaving just Ben and Isobel alone. He joined her behind the bar and cleaned glasses to keep busy.
Another three hours passed before Kevin returned, but at least he was less hostile than before. He kept his eyes low as he passed Isobel. Ben wondered if he was finally coming round to the idea of her working there. But his whereabouts all day had him worried.
☼
The evening was uneventful, with the usual regulars popping in and out. Old Pete was the only consistent business for the day, disappearing for a few hours at a time, and returning when his buzz had worn off. Isobel mostly kept to herself, speaking only when spoken to, and even then her answers were short and vague. Ben wondered what Isobel’s story was, where she’d come from, her Indigene skill. She’d said nothing about any of it. Sal had already asked her if she was an empath and Isobel had replied no. If not that, then what?
More than once he saw her with her eyes closed, muttering to herself. Then her eyes would open and she’d stare at the walls, the stairs, the door.
By 8.30pm, the place had cleared out, except for Old Pete. When Albert announced he was closing early, an irate Pete left but not without a little protesting first.
Kevin had disappeared upstairs, leaving Isobel and Albert to sweep while Ben tidied away the chairs. By 9pm, the place was back in order.
Isobel put on her coat and nodded to Albert. ‘See you tomorrow.’
With a broom in one hand, Albert turned. ‘Yes. Tomorrow. But before you go, I wanted to say something to you.’
Isobel tied the coat-belt around her waist and waited. Her expression was set to neutral.
‘I wanted to thank you for your help these last couple of days. I know this has been difficult for you, but the alternative is far, far worse. I hope you’re settling into Sal’s okay.’
‘Yes, Sal has been accommodating. But I didn’t come back to Earth to live my life as a slave.’
Albert’s brow creased. ‘Please. You’re not a slave here. You may leave if that’s what you want, but I would strongly advise against it.’
Isobel nodded, her hands paused on the ends of the belt. ‘Sal explained to me how this place works but I’d like to think that one day I will live as I please. This planet is not how I remember it.’ She nodded at him. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, Isobel.’
As Ben watched her leave, a funny feeling swirled around his stomach. He’d felt it all day, but it was worse now. Her muttering to herself, the staring at the walls, the door, the stairs.
She had been working something out. Ben filled with a sudden dread that Isobel planned to escape Waverley tonight.